


Slave to the Silence II

by deklava



Series: Silence at the Diogenes [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Fingerfucking, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deklava/pseuds/deklava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Slave to the Silence</i>. James Moriarty, alias Diogenes servant 088, becomes the official property of Mycroft Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave to the Silence II

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: **chasingriver**
> 
> **NOTE:** NSFW artwork by the amazing Sexlock at the bottom of this page.

When 088, the former James Moriarty, stepped into Mycroft’s private office at the Diogenes Club, he stumbled and fell to all fours. He’d forgotten how thick the carpeting in this room was.  He started to rise, but Mycroft glanced up from his paperwork and ordered in deceptively mild tones, _No. Stay down, if you please._

_Yes, Mr. Holmes._ 088 shifted into a kneeling position and waited patiently until Mycroft finished reading the thick file on his desk and signed its last page with his solid gold fountain pen. Then the elder Holmes closed the leather dossier with a flourish, leaned back in his chair, and eyed 088 over steepled fingertips.

_I’ve been advised that you’re progressing nicely in your training._

_Thank you, Sir._ The former consulting criminal kept his eyes on the floor. That had been the first rule he was taught: when a superior spoke, he lowered his gaze and kept it down until directed otherwise. He’d seen more shoes than faces during the past two weeks.

_I appreciate that this has been a huge change for you. You’re used to acquiring things: money, secrets, the Crown Jewels. Now you are the acquired._ Brilliant blue eyes consumed him inch by inch, making him flush and shift. He wasn’t looking at Mycroft, but the man’s stare made his skin prickle with electricity. _I’m curious to know your thoughts._

_It’s not a choice I would have made at one time, Mr. Holmes_ , 088 admitted. _But I like this. I feel safe._

It was true. When he’d signed the servitude contract in this very office, his feelings had been mixed. On one hand there was relief that Mycroft Holmes had decided to give him a choice between service and execution. But on the other, he’d always been master of his own destiny, and relinquishing his independence and identity had been daunting. As the days passed, his regret diminished and his rigidly controlled living conditions instilled a sense of safety and calm that had been alien to him since childhood. He only had to worry about whether he was pleasing his overseers.

_You are safe. None of your enemies- including Sherlock- know you’re alive, let alone here._ The elder Holmes lowered his fingers, opened a drawer, and took out a thick leather dog leash. _Crawl over here, please._

088 obeyed. The black silk shirt and soft trousers clung tightly to his shoulders and arse as he moved. He knew he looked good: even his trainer, a married man with a string of mistresses, cast a covetous eye on his naked form whenever he was tied or cuffed into a vulnerable or suggestive position.

Mycroft stood. He presented his usual imposing figure in a tailored grey suit that looked black in the dim lighting. A white linen shirt and crimson tie with black pearl stickpin completed the regal effect. When 088 stopped before the massive cherrywood desk, the elder Holmes emerged from behind it and snapped the leash onto his collar.

_I sent for you because I’d like to sample the fruits of your training. I’ve thought a lot about our last tryst, and wonder whether or not I should retain you as my own personal pet instead of share you with the other members._

088’s pulse quickened. Mycroft Holmes had always obsessed him. Before his capture, he’d gazed at the man’s picture and spied on him from afar, wishing him dead but wanting to break him first. Sherlock had been fun to play with, but Mycroft never played: he waged war. As Moriarty, 088 had seen the older Holmes brother as his biggest challenge, the last obstacle between himself and omnipotence. Now, as a Diogenes servant, he wanted to be owned by his former nemesis completely.

_Whatever pleases you, Sir,_ he responded, not caring how eager he sounded.

_I’ll tell you what will please me now. I’m in need of release, young man._ Mycroft’s voice was steady but his long fingers quivered minutely as he looped the leash handle around his wrist and unfastened his trousers. As soon as the zip was completely lowered, his cock sprang free, stiff and powerful.

088 stared fixedly at it, remembering how it had ploughed his long-untouched arse that one time they’d been together. He also remembered the anal beads, the masterful blow job, and the fierce bites on his upper body, all of which had combined to reduce him to a moaning, climaxing mess. No one had ever played his slender form so skillfully before, and he’d been craving a repeat performance ever since.

Was that going to happen now?

_Your instructions are simple. I will tell you where to touch me with your hands and mouth, and you will obey. Take this._ After handing the younger man a small blue bottle, Mycroft lowered his trousers and navy blue boxers to mid-thigh and then, to 088’s amazement, turned around and bent over the desk. His lower back curved, presenting two smooth arse cheeks that glowed like marble beneath the chandelier overhead.

_Open the bottle and put the oil on your hands,_ he ordered, tugging on the leash for emphasis as he spread his legs. _I require you to stimulate my penis and my prostate._

His voice was slightly ragged with lust but still casual, as if he had a harmless rent boy instead of a former criminal mastermind kneeling behind him. If he was at all worried that 088 might revert to his old ways and snap his neck or stab him with a letter opener, he didn’t show it. Probably because they both knew that if anyone ended up with a broken neck or steel to the heart as the result of rebellion, it wouldn’t be Mycroft.

_Shall we begin?_

088 clicked the bottle open and poured the lubricant onto his palm. Then he spread it over both hands. It was slippery but silky-soft, and smelled faintly of almond oil.

_Ready, Sir._

Mycroft took a deep breath and exhaled. _Cradle my testicles in one hand and use the other to stroke my erection firmly from the base to the tip. Pinch my foreskin closed over the head, then release and rub it with your thumb. Do it in a circular motion._

088 extended his glistening hands. Mycroft’s balls rested delicately in his left palm; he caressed them with his thumb while using his right hand to stroke and massage that hot column of flesh as directed. When he pulled the soft foreskin up and over the sensitive head, pre-ejaculate spilled out and provided additional lubrication.

_Very good,_ Mycroft hissed, shifting his hips. _Hold me a little tighter now during the upstroke, and move your hand a little faster._

When 088 complied to perfection, the elder Holmes didn’t moan, but his breathing became uneven, his fingers curled, and he parted his thighs a little more. A single thread of viscous fluid trailed from his cockhead to the rug, swinging as 088’s strokes intensified.

_Make a fist around the base of my penis_ , he finally ordered. _Don’t move it…. Yes, yes, just like that. Perfect._

088 watched raptly, ignoring his own swelling cock, as Mycroft thrust in and out of his tightly closed fingers, pale arse muscles flexing and expanding with each move. He relished the feel of this lord-like man fucking his hand and becoming harder by the minute. He could feel Mycroft’s balls tightening at the same time.

Seconds passed in thickening silence. The air was heavy with their combined breathing and the scent of their arousal. 

_Now lick my anus until you feel the muscle relax._ Mycroft reached back and pulled his cheeks apart. _Then put your tongue inside. Deep. Don’t hold out on me either or you’ll regret my earlier mercy._

088 had only done this to women before, but desire and infatuation drove him to lean forward and run his tongue slowly around the puckered flesh, leaving trails of saliva in its wake. He alternated moist kisses with careful tongue thrusts until the muscle relaxed. Then he pushed in hard, marvelling at how hot and tight Mycroft was inside. He shoved his face deep between the man’s buttocks and lapped at his narrow passage before drawing back slightly and licking around the interior of the rim, where he knew from experience that sensitive nerves clustered. At the same time, he manipulated Mycroft’s cock and balls as directed earlier, the rimming never causing him to lose rhythm.

_That’s it. Yes, yes. Good boy. Very good._ Mycroft pulled on the leash, forcing 088’s face more tightly against his hole. _Nice and deep. Oh, lovely._ He shuddered and shook his head to clear it. After riding that talented tongue for awhile longer, he said hoarsely, _Take your hand away from my balls and apply lubricant to your middle and index fingers. Massage my prostate, tightening your other hand on my penis as you do so._

088’s cock was positively aching now, but he focused on pleasuring the man who now owned him completely. He sat back on his heels, feeling lightheaded and daring, and applied fresh lube as directed.  After repositioning his right fist around Mycroft’s dripping cock, he pressed the middle and index fingers of his left hand against the loosened sphincter muscle until it yielded and he was inside, heading for that spot that turned most men into needy and whimpering beasts.

When he found it and pushed down gently Mycroft didn’t beg or whimper, but his sharp inhale tore the air like the sound of ripping paper.

_Ohhh… now massage. Use more pressure._ His hands flattened against his polished desk and he rotated his hips, guiding the angle.  As his movements became less controlled, Mycroft ordered, _Faster. Stroke me faster._

088’s right wrist pistoned rapidly back and forth, lube and precum marking his progress with a wet slapping sound. At the same time, he pressed his fingertips against Mycroft’s prostate and rotated his wrist, making the lube squelch.

_Oh,_ Mycroft breathed just before he started to shake all over. Seeing that he was on the verge, 088 wanked and massaged him harder and faster.

_Fuck, go faster, you little whore. I demand that you get me off this very-_

His back arched upwards and he convulsed, making a strange panting noise and tossing his head back. 088 moaned as he felt warm sperm spill all over his right hand and coat his digits. The fingers embedded in Mycroft’s arse were nearly crushed by the muscles that suddenly clamped down on them with brutal force. 088 winced and tried to pull them out, but his Master’s body refused to relinquish them until the pleasure tremors receded.

Finally Mycroft’s hips stopped jerking and he relaxed against the desk, breathing heavily. As 088 carefully withdrew, he raised his head and whispered, _Splendid work. Now for you._

088 was ready to weep with gratitude and relief. Anticipating permission to wank, he reached for the zip of his now-damp trousers, but Mycroft suddenly stood up, tucked his softening penis back into his trousers, and turned around. He leaned against the edge of the desk, one leg extended. His face was flushed and sweaty, but otherwise he had reverted to his usual composure.

_You’re my pet, 088. And because you’ve behaved so well, I’m going to reward you._ He patted his thigh in invitation. _Keep your trousers on and bring yourself off against my leg._

At one time James Moriarty, 088 would have reacted to such an order by cutting the person’s flesh from their body strip by strip and force-feeding it to them. Now he shuffled forward eagerly on his knees. Mycroft bent down, grasped his upper arms, and positioned the younger man astride his thigh.

_Start riding,_ he ordered, lowering his hands to 088’s shivering buttocks.

088 tilted his pelvis downward and began to move, rubbing his cock against the solid limb beneath him. The friction was so exquisite that he gasped and seized Mycroft’s lapels with his semen-coated fingers. The elder Holmes didn’t seem to mind: he nipped and licked around his slave’s gaping mouth before kissing him hard enough to bruise.

They ground against each other, chest to chest and mouth to mouth, inhaling and exhaling hot and dirty air. _More, Sir,_ 088 begged as the pressure in his crotch mounted. He was so wet, and fleetingly wondered if Mycroft could feel it through the layers of fabric that separated their bare skin. Mycroft squeezed his arse with cruel force; pain exploded in the muscles and rocketed throughout his pelvis, vaulting him up to and finally past his breaking point.

_That’s it. Let me see you enjoy your reward_ , the elder Holmes encouraged. _I want you to come, and feel your release soak your trousers and trickle back down over your sore flesh._

_Fuck,_ 088 groaned. Then he was coming, and hard.

He’d been denied for so long that orgasm hit like a shock. His cock pulsed urgently before spraying warm fluid throughout the tight confines of the black trousers. He felt his come sliding down his erection and coating his groin, but the restricted flow felt gloriously filthy. He whimpered and shook until it hurt to move any more.

When 088 finally stilled, Mycroft lowered him gently to a kneeling position on the floor and stroked his hair.

_You were magnificent. I was indeed right about you._ His fingers lowered to 088’s collar and fondled the leather. _From now on, you’re mine alone._

Until Mycroft spoke those words, the former James Moriarty hadn’t thought that heaven existed. It was too abstract a concept for his more logical mind to accept. Now, kneeling at his Master’s feet, clothes stuck to his frame by sweat and semen and lips gasping for breath, he began to believe.


End file.
